“She canceled with only forty minutes to spare,” a job-searching friend told me describing a recent interview with his potential new boss. “We rescheduled for the next day and she was fifteen minutes late,” he continued. “But when she walked into the room, I forgave her because I was in awe of her beauty.” This said by my gay male friend, who wasn’t harboring an “I-want-to-date-her” hidden agenda.

Beauty alone won’t take you the distance, but the truth is, sometimes it provides pretty good traction. In my single days, I let plenty slide if someone floated my boat in the looks department and, if they didn’t, I doled out fewer ‘get out of jail free’ cards. Many times my vote of confidence, based primarily on attraction, was sadly misdirected.

I’ve been giving ‘beauty’ some thought lately, as Big Papa and I talk about ‘the face’ of our future kiddo, particularly as we consider adopting a child with special needs. There are so many kids in need a loving home who are, on the surface, less than perfect. They may have a club foot, be missing fingers, or possibly have cleft lip or a large birth mark, covering their face.

We try to imagine the impact this might have on our child in terms of the physical challenges he might experience, and also relative to the negative reactions or preconceived expectations he might encounter. At my gym, an instructor and a gym member were recently comparing pictures of their young tots. “Look at his face. What an angel,” one cooed. “Your daughter is gorgeous. You’ll have to keep her locked up when she gets older,” ventured the other.

I imagine pushing my cleft lip baby in his stroller down the sidewalk, only to have passersby shriek or shrink back when they peer inside. What do I say when well-meaning family members and friends ask for pictures of our bundle of joy. Do I preface what I share with cautionary statement?

When our child is old enough to understand hurtful comments directed his way, how do I handle the sadness or anger he may feel? In school, kids can be vicious. Even children without disabilities are subject to intense scrutiny and teasing. Do I teach him to be tough and stand up for himself or do I teach him to be forgiving and compassionate toward those who are ill-informed or just don’t get it? What can we do, as parents, to instill healthy self-esteem and a confident outlook on the world, particularly if our kid looks a bit different from your average Joe?

On some level my fears are based on my own history. I’ve often wrestled with feeling that if only I could lose ten pounds, I’d get the guy or just be happier. Maybe the buck stops with me. If my hope for our child is that he won’t let his life be controlled by how he thinks others see him, it’s time for me to nip my own insecurities in the bud. Be the role model I want to be by starting with how I see myself. Here’s looking at you, kid.